The Father Hen
by ManualPuppy
Summary: Do any of us really know who we are? Courier Six certainly doesn't, and Boone has been unsure for a while too. They're running out of time to find out, however, the kingdom of Alpha and Omega has most certainly come, and soon the Father Hen will call his chickens home. Rated M for language. No religion, just a love of Johnny Cash songs. C. Boone & Courier. No romance planned


**The Father Hen Will Call His Chickens Home**

**AN:** Yes, I did listen to When The Man Comes Around while writing this, hence the strange title. I'm hoping eventually it will make sense.

* * *

**And I heard, as it were, the sound of thunder.**

_Courier Six works the pump furiously,_ each motion bringing the cool water she so desperately craves closer to the surface. She takes out her frustrations on the machinery. "Trekking through this godforsaken desert" she tries to spit the words hatefully but all that comes out is a parched hiss.

"Would be there by now if the damn stupid NCR could protect their damn stupid roads from damn stupid Deathclaws" She stops briefly to wipe the sweat from her forehead. She is very young, a teenager, if that even is something that exists in the world any more. Her fifteenth birthday was a few months ago.

"If dad was here he'd march right up to those ugly beasts and…" here she cuts herself off. Her eyes are too dry for tears but that doesn't stop the uncomfortable prickling sensation. With one last angry thrust rad-free, life-giving water pours forth from the belly of the earth and she sets upon it ravenously.

Over her loud splashes and gulps she doesn't hear the sound of footsteps behind her. The first and last thing she knows is darkness and the smell of old cloth, before a blow to the back of the head renders her unconscious.

_She is waking up and its cold_. Her hair and clothes are damp, as is the sack over her head. She is face down in the dirt and all she can taste is dust and mud. With a muffled cry she tries to sit up only to find herself bound and gagged.

"Guess who's waking up over here?" the voice is male. She turns her head, trying to pin-point the speaker.

"Time to cash out" a different voice. She starts, he is practically on top of her. She is pulled to her knees. 'Oh god, I'm going to die on my knees' the skin on her cheeks prickles, the foreshadow of tears.

"Would you get it over with?" another voice. Male again. Three men to take out one teenage girl? What on earth had she done?

"Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?" She shakes, pushing down the terror in her stomach and telling herself she's just cold. 'Khans? What the hell have I done to the Khans?'

The coarse sack is pulled away from her face and she finds herself face to face with a well-dressed, well-groomed man.

"Shit" the first voice spoke in the slightly stunned silence that came over the trio after seeing her "Shit, Benny. She's a kid. She's just a damn girl" he's holding a shovel. Her heart skips a beat. They've already dug her a grave. She's going to die on her knees in the desert, further from home than she has even been. She fights the raw panic growing inside of her.

The man (Benny, she guessed) shoots him a silencing look before turning back to her. He removes the oversized platinum chip from his coat pocket.

Her delivery. Her responsibility. And she has just let him take it from her. She didn't even put up a fight.

Anger and disappointment well up in her chest and the prickling feeling on her cheeks doubles.

"You've made your last delivery, kid" she closes her eyes. 'Sorry dad' the bitter tears of failure finally make their way through her clenched eyelids 'Everyone was right. I wasn't ready to be on my own. I just wanted to be like you. I should have stayed at home, taking pot-shots at Mirelurks...'

"... the game was rigged from the start" She opens her eyes, if she can't be brave then the next best thing she can do is look her death in the face.

For a moment she is sure she see something something flash in his eyes. Regret? Remorse?

Good.

Behind the gag she allows herself an acid smile as she forces more tears from her eyes.

Let the memory he takes from this be of a girl crying.

Let that image burn itself into his mind.

Let him know himself as a child-killer until it drives him insane.

That was going to have to be as good as revenge.

"I'm sorry" his gun flashes silver. She stares into his eyes, refusing to look away.

Two shots are fired, echoing from the slight rise like thunder.

Her body crumples

The last of the darkness is barely clinging to the desert when the three figures leave.

That's it, the beginning and the end. This is where it should end.

_But it isn't time for the young Courier to go home yet._


End file.
